


Them Kisses

by deniigiq



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Kissing, Lap Sitting, M/M, Multi, a little baseball, but fuck the dodgers, go giants or go home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq
Summary: A little more than baseball





	Them Kisses

Five times out of ten, if Stevie Rogers felt provoked someone would catch his hands.

Three times out of ten, if the offender was Bucky Barnes, he would still his catch hands.

One time out of ten, Steve would back down.

Not a lot of room for other options.

The option which presented itself at present was Sam’s lap. He cradled a cheekbone firmly in each palm and stared right into his eyes. Sam did not look away.

“I will never forgive them,” he informed the room. The announcer on the screen behind him called a foul ball.

“Okay,” Sam drawled.

Satisfied, he let go of Sam’s face and shifted his weight to remove himself from his lap, but Sam tightened the hands he’d automatically wrapped around the small of Steve’s back to keep him from falling off the couch. Steve looked back up at him in question, and Sam gave a little tug, pulling him just a little more comfortably onto his thighs. He wrapped one hand around the opposite wrist, locking Steve into place, and stretched a smile into his cheek.

“If pissing you off gets us here, sweetheart, I should do it more often,” he smirked, watching Steve’s blush travel into his collar. That blush was making him warm, making him a little sweaty. That was it.  Nothing to do with them hands. Or the thighs.

Sam gave another tug, firmer this time, pulling Steve forward until they were crotch to belly and it was really hot in here. Too hot, maybe he was getting sick. Could he even get sick? Sam’s eyes and nose and smirk were suddenly a lot closer. He didn’t seem to notice the heat (definitely a fever) and a couple of pearly whites were showing through his lips. Steve forgot all about being mad. Became stupidly aware of his crotch and the backs of his thighs and the stripes of heat on his back where Sam’s wrists were sitting.

“S’matter, bud? Your plan backfire? Nothing else to say about the Dodgers?” What Dodgers? Fuck the Dodgers. He was perched on the lap of the handsomest man in the world right now and all he could do was squirm a little and shrug. Sam didn’t get the message; rather, Sam ignored the message and kept right on smiling at him.

“Sam—” he tried, trying to plant a knee a bit more firmly on the couch to give himself some leverage to get off. Sam’s face changed and he eased up his grip on Steve’s back a little.

“You don’t like this?” He started to unwind his arms entirely and Steve’s subconscious decided to abort Mission Escape immediately. He reached back and caught Sam’s wrists before they left his back entirely. He dropped his eyelashes and gently leaned forward onto Sam’s thighs for emphasis.

“No, no. This is, uh, fine. Good! Yeah, good. I just—it can’t be that comfortable. Um. Let’s move back a little bit.” Sam’s eyes lit up and he shimmied back until his back settled on couch cushions. He jerked Steve back into position (see Fig 2. Crotch to belly) with firm hands around his ass and then resettled them squeezing his sides. Steve pushed his weight back, forcing Sam to stop squeezing and start supporting. He could look directly into his eyes this way.

“Baby,” Sam drawled like a silver spoon through honey, “You’re real pretty up there. Could keep you there for a hot minute if you don’t mind it.”

How.

How were people so smooth. Buck over there on his side of the couch, not being helpful, could write poetry with his lips into the neck of some pretty thing once he’d gotten them close enough. Sam over here is his come-hither eyes and his deep, slow murmuring. He felt a flash of comfort at the thought that Nat’s idea of seduction (for people she actually liked, who she was not trying to lure into public and private humiliation) probably included grabbing the consenting body by the back of the neck and smashing their lips together.

It didn’t last long though because Sam’s hand cupped the back of _his_ neck and pulled him down for a kiss, languid and lazy. A bottle of coke on the fire-escape in mid-summer. The smell of hydrants open in the street, sirens wailing. Not even a whisper of cool relief on the night breeze.

“Stop thinking, Steve, it’s giving me a headache.” A sweaty bottle on the fire-escape. That hand spread wide and flat on the small of his back. Warm, solid thighs pressed up against his own, all the way up to his ass. Humid breath kissing his lips. Yeah alright, fuck the Dodgers, but also fuck thinking for a minute.

Buck whooped as the batter missed the third ball.


End file.
